Call It In The AirA while back, a friend of mine mentioned that he had a pointed dislike of dimes. If I remember correctly, the list of crimes included their thinness, their smallness, their propensity to get lost in the couch. I believe an argument was floated as to the ever growing ineffectiveness of ten cents, a potion of a dollar that was growing more obsolete and pointless with every handfuls of days. In an effort to be contrary, I bought him a dime, and attractively presented it with a bit of horrible doggerel that came to mind at the time.
The interesting bit was the purchase of the dime; there is nothing so odd as as the purchase of money. I wanted an interesting dime, and dimes have changed with the times. I found dimes from the earliest turn of the twentieth century somewhat interesting. I believe I ended up paying six dollars for an example of one, worn by nearly one hundred years in pockets and under thumbs.
I found myself with a disc with several values. I had paid six dollars for it; it was arguably worth six dollars. The metal itself was in portion silver; there was value in the specie, but I do not know what it was. The thing itself had history, and there is value there, too: I would like to think I put value into it when I chose it.
(The value of money is a strange space: if this notion holds a seed of interest, I would recommend the work of and about J. S. Boggs.)
Beyond all of this, it was, after all, a dime. It was still worth ten cents, should I have choosen it to be. As far as I know, no one has spent it yet.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at comment@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.